


so I could look inside her eyes (and get the colors just right)

by jesterandbeau



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drawing, F/F, First Kiss, Getting Together, Love Confessions, Pining, Self-Doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22433356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesterandbeau/pseuds/jesterandbeau
Summary: After having a hard time describing her father to Jester, Beauregard decides to ask her for drawing lessons.
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett
Comments: 3
Kudos: 83





	so I could look inside her eyes (and get the colors just right)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, y'all! I've been thinking about this fic forever so I finally wrote it. From 1 AM to 5 AM, because that's when I work best. I really hope you like it, because it was quite fun to write!  
> Also, the title comes from Halsey's song Forever ... (is a long time) because I can't stop listening to her new album and because I think I think this song fits the fic somewhat well.

So much has changed since their first time in Trostenwald. Beauregard doesn't like to think about it too much, but it's still strange to be in the same place where they all had met. Something inside her is tempted to believe that they're closing a cycle; that something will happen and they'll go separate ways and she'll be alone again. Time after time, she has expected them to leave her once she becomes too much. Deep down, she couldn't be happier to know just how stubborn the Mighty Nein are.  
They have goals now. They will find Yasha, and they will destroy Obann, and they will root out the corruption in the Cerberus Assembly. They'll stop a war. Beauregard has felt small and incapable many times in her life, but she knows for a fact that they can do all of that. She would never doubt her friends' abilities.  
Still, her body feels cold when Jester mentions geothermal activity and mountains. She does her best to hide the defensive stance her body automatically adopts when they have to talk about her father.  
Beauregard wishes she could just remove him from her memory. Remove whatever it is that feels so heavy when she has to talk about him, and remove the childish sorrow that threatens to overtake her voice once she does. The Cobalt Soul made her into a great note taker; even when she has nothing to write on, she is great at keeping details in her mind and finding relevant patterns in what she sees. Her description of Thoreau Lionett, though, is so poor it would give any of her instructors a headache.  
As Jester tries to put everything she says into a drawing, she can't help wishing she had picked that up. It had never seemed important for someone who hoped to someday become an Expositor, but she realizes now just how useful it can be combined with the right magical abilities. The way Jester's clever hands work, erasing what feels wrong while continuing to develop the picture with the details Beauregard provides, is almost entrancing.  
She wonders how long it would take to learn the basics. She wouldn't dream of being as good as Jester, who has been drawing and painting forever, but it could be of help in future quests. And in keeping memories alive, too.  
Once they've all settled, content with the nostalgia the inn brings but still on edge because of the recent developments, Beauregard waits for Jester to brighten the candles with Thaumaturgy and pick up her drawing supplies to speak.  
“Hey, Jes,” she says, softly, turning to her bed. “Do you think you could teach me how to draw sometime?”  
Jester instantly widens her eyes, letting the tiniest of gasps out, and Beauregard can't help wondering if her question was rude. Or ruder than usual.  
“Oh my gosh, Beau, yes, I could. That's gonna be so fun. We could start tonight,” she gesticulates excitedly, “or, I mean, if you're tired, we can always do it later, but, like, tonight we have a room all to ourselves, and--”  
“Yeah,” Beauregard can't help but smile. “I think tonight would be good.”  
“Great! Okay, okay, okay, do you have a notebook?! No, wait, of course you do, but I have a sketchbook I bought in Zadash that I haven't used yet, and that can be yours. The parchment in it is super good quality, and you can even use paints on it. It's that great.”  
“Are you sure? I don't wanna ruin your brand new sketchbook.”  
Jester, who is already rummaging through her Bag of Holding, turns to roll her eyes at her.  
“Art doesn't ruin anything! And I won't need a new one in a while, anyway, this one I bought because we had gold and I thought it'd be nice to have a backup. Like, what if we end up in Darktow again, or in the Happy Fun Ball, and I run out of pages?! Not good. But we're headed to Zadash again, and I can just pick another one up there. It's fine, Beau.”  
She knows that Jester won't give up on her offer, and so she takes the sketchbook and a place in her bed, sitting opposite to her. The parchment does feel nice, and the binding is different from the one in her journal. It all feels foreign to her, and for a moment she regrets having asked Jester to be her teacher. She was always a difficult student, trying to prove that she didn't belong in the monastery, and she's scared she won't know how to behave now. Jester doesn't deserve to be disappointed. And she doesn't want to be the one to do it.  
“Okay, Beau, pay attention now,” Jester says, poking her waist with her tail. “Come sit next to me.”  
Beauregard does as she is told, accepting a pencil that looks way fancier than the one she owns from her hands.  
“You've written in pencil, yeah? I see it sometimes.”  
She wishes she could hide her face. Though she doesn't blush easily, the warmth spreading on her cheeks just from the thought of Jester paying attention to her is embarrassing.  
“Yeah. Learned at the Cobalt Soul because ink is fucking messy,” she grimaces as an answer, thinking about all the calligraphy lessons she took at the Lionett Estate. “I can write with pretty much anything. They even made me learn how to do it with metal. It's real faint and annoying to read afterward, but it works.”  
“That sounds real cool, Beau. Maybe we could trade. I teach you how to draw and you teach me your secret monk writing stuff!”  
Beauregard can't stop a chuckle from coming out of her mouth.  
“It's a pain in the ass, but sure.”  
“It'll be fun!” She smiles, violet eyes twinkling in the firelight. “But let's get started with drawing first. Oh, I'm excited. Okay, okay, I think first you should show me what you got.”  
“I got nothing.”  
Jester rolls her eyes.  
“Come on, Beau! I need you to draw something. Oh, you know what?! You should draw me.”  
Her heart beats faster at that, and the mere realization makes her feel guilty. She should never have let herself think of Jester like that. Jester is her best friend, her safety, her favorite person. She can't ruin that.  
It all started with a silly compliment, back in a cart, when Molly was still around and she didn't quite trust anyone but, for the first time, something in her yearned to. Jester had told her her hair looked pretty in the morning, and for a moment her heart had beat so strongly she was sure everyone could hear it. Because she was beautiful, yes, but also because there was so much kindness in her words, and because she always seemed to pick up on whatever Beauregard was feeling, even though they'd known each other for weeks. Which is exactly why it's dangerous to feel anything outside the realm of friendship for her. Sooner or later, she will know. She's smart like that, and she's empathetic like that.  
With a sigh, Beauregard presses her wood-cased pencil to the sketchbook, seeing Jester smile by her side.  
“Okay. Don't get too excited, though. I suck at drawing.”  
She doesn't have to look at her to know what she looks like, but she does it anyway. Jester looks even more beautiful in this light, and something in her chest stops as she stares, mouth suddenly dry.  
It's hard to translate it to the blank page in front of her, though. Everything looks too wobbly, or too disproportionate, or just plain wrong. She tries and she tries, but her best result is still not the one she wishes for.  
“Yeah, that's it, I guess.”  
Jester leans on her shoulder to get a closer look and nods silently as her fingers touch the parchment, as if it's telling her something.  
“This is pretty good, actually,” she says, and Beauregard can feel her breath against her collarbone, and suddenly she's very aware of every single part of her body.  
“Don't lie to me, Jes.”  
“I wouldn't,” she answers immediately. “Anyway, yeah, I think I know what you need, Beau! Can you turn to a blank page?”  
Beauregard nods and turns the page, expecting more instructions, but Jester turns to her own sketchbook instead. She misses her instantly.  
“So, I think the first thing you're missing is knowing where to put your strength,” Jester says, motioning to her sketchbook. “Look. When I draw a circle like this, it's all shaky, and I need to stop at some spots. But it's seamless when I do it like this. Can you see the difference?”  
She does it a few more times, and it doesn't take long for Beauregard to understand the pattern she's trying to show.  
“So using your forearm makes better circles. Got it.”  
“You're so smart, Beau! That's it, yeah. Basically, you use your whole arm for broader stuff, and your wrist when you want to draw details,” she moves on to a quick, but elaborate drawing of a flower. “See?”  
Beauregard nods. It's even easier to understand it once she tries it herself, and soon enough she's almost confident in her circles and straight lines.  
“Did you learn all of this on your own?” She asks as she turns to a different page.  
“Yeah, kinda. I mean, I drew everywhere as a kid, so my mama always got me parchment and stuff. It was a nice way to pass the time, and then I grew up and I got really good at it, so she ordered lots of books for me. And then I learned all those techniques and stuff.”  
“That's really cool, Jes.”  
She tries to imagine a small Jester, stuck in a bedroom with only her imagination to keep her company. It brings her fondness and sadness in equal parts. She remembers her own childhood, when she would draw picture after picture for her parents, until they began to keep the parchment in a shelf she couldn't reach. They had both lacked warmth growing up, but at least Beau had known the world around her.  
“Of course, the Traveler is a pretty good model, too,” Jester smiles. “And sometimes I'd go into my little hiding nooks at the Chateau and draw all the interesting people I saw. But mostly I could only study myself, and that was boring. It's so hard to hold a mirror while you try to draw.”  
“I'm glad I can draw you, then.”  
“Yeah! I'll teach you all about drawing faces first, 'cause that's important if you wanna help with Disguise Self and stuff, but later I can teach you anatomy, too, and I never had the chance to draw anyone naked, I mean, unless I ended up seeing something interesting at the Chateau, but I wouldn't mind it if you wanted me to pose for you! I've heard it really helps!”  
Beauregard has to remind herself of ten different monk techniques to keep herself concentrated in drawing. And, still, she doesn't know if the thought of Jester posing for her will ever leave the back of her mind.  
“Okay, okay, okay, that's enough circles for a whole week,” Jester laughs and puts her hand over Beau's. “Now, I think you can do another portrait. But you have to pay attention to the muscles, too, not just the skin. I mean, I'm sure you know more than I do about that, because you're a cool monk, but let me show you this.”  
She has studied every muscle in countless humanoid and monstrous bodies, but nothing could have prepared her for the light touch of Jester's hand leading her own hand to her face, tracing every single inch of it with an impossible softness. Beauregard drags her thumb over her cheek and chin, coming dangerously close to her lips, and she's sure she should be learning something, but she can't remember what.  
“See? We have all sorts of curves and dimensions that we have to remember when we're drawing,” Jester says, voice lower now that they're close. “It helps to keep that in mind.”  
“Okay,” is all that Beauregard can say.  
“When you were a kid, did you play with those little building blocks?” Jester waits for Beauregard to nod before continuing. “So, that's a face. It's really just a bunch of circles and squares that you put together.”  
So that's what she had to learn before. Okay. She watches as Jester moves to begin drawing again, beginning with broader guidelines that become more specific and then actually begin to resemble a face.  
It's her face, she realizes belatedly. It's her, but much more beautiful. Her nose looks strong and charming, and her lips are upturned in an easy smile.  
“See?! That's you, Beau! And it all began with a bunch of circles and lines. Do you wanna try again now?”  
“Sure.”  
She begins with a circle, still shaky but way better than her first, and Jester explains how to use guidelines to quickly create the shape of a face. It's not hard to draw something resemblant of one, but it's not easy to draw Jester's specific face shape. Her cheeks are full and her jaw is strong, and she's way more beautiful than anything Beauregard could ever draw.  
“I kinda like to start with the guidelines for the cheekbones, and the chin, and then the nose. I think the easiest way to draw a nose is with, like, a diamond shape, you know?” Jester asks her, drawing on the margin of her own sketchbook to demonstrate what she means. “They just change in size. Mine's a tiny nose, but you have a really charming one, and my mama has the prettiest nose ever. I wish I had her nose.”  
For a second, Beauregard feels pathetic for feeling so good about hearing that her nose is charming, whatever that means.  
“Stop that, Jes. Your nose is a good nose.”  
“I mean, all noses are good noses, as long as they keep you breathing. Mine's just not that pretty. It makes sense after learning The Gentleman is my dad, though.”  
“Nope. I don't care about The Gentleman, but your nose is pretty.”  
“Well, thanks for caring about my nose, Beau,” Jester's smile is wide, and Beauregard should feel like even more of a fool, but she just can't. “Now let's go back to drawing!”  
She laughs at that, but she's quick to follow Jester's order. With a few looks at her face, it's easy to see where the next guidelines should go, and soon enough it's time for the actual details.  
Even though Jester is a patient teacher, Beauregard doesn't think she will ever figure eyes out. Or lips. Or eyebrows. It's all so much harder than she expected, and she knows she's not doing as good a job as Jester tells her.  
“Okay, okay, maybe I should pose instead of crowding over you. That's better, right?” She asks, and Beauregard knows that objectively it is, but she misses having her close as soon as she's gone.  
There's just something so calming about the way she smells, of jasmine and cinnamon and whatever pastry she's been snacking on, and the temperature of her body, always a little colder than the usual for tieflings. Beauregard has gotten so used to being close to her that just the thought of her leaving makes her stomach turn.  
She takes a deep breath and tries to get her eyes right again, but they're obscured by strands of dark blue hair that Jester seems too distracted to worry about.  
“Hey, Jes,” she says, leaning forward. “Lemme fix your hair.”  
Something makes her almost scared to touch Jester. She's so used to sleeping close to her now, legs entangled and her hand on her waist, and they're never apart when they can help it, but it still feels somehow too good to be true. Like anything could break it.  
She could break it. She'll do it soon if she keeps having thoughts like that.  
Carefully, she brushes Jester's hair back, tucking it behind her ear. Does she even know how beautiful she is? Her eyes reflect every single candle in the room, and her lips are so full and perfectly heart-shaped, and the dark blue freckles dusting her skin look so delicate that she wishes she could kiss every single one of them. Jester is so beautiful, and she's sure that she is staring, but she can't bring herself to care.  
And then Jester is kissing her, and something inside her explodes, and all of a sudden she's so scared.  
Beauregard pulls back, and Jester doesn't chase her lips, and she almost wishes she had because it would have been so much easier to keep on kissing her forever.  
“Jes--”  
“I'm sorry, I--”  
“What was that?” She asks, as softly as she can muster.  
“I'm sorry, Beau.”  
Beauregard takes her hand, interlacing their fingers before she speaks.  
“You don't have to be sorry. I just... I want to know. Was it a spur of the moment thing? It's fine if it was. We're still best friends.”  
Jester's breathing gets shaky before she answers.  
“It wasn't, Beau,” she looks at their hands. “I don't... wanna be your best friend. I mean, I do, you're the coolest person I've ever met, but also, I... I realized there's so much more than that. And I know you don't feel the same, and it was just a stupid thing. I'm sorry.”  
“No! I mean. Okay. Give me a second. I don't do feelings. I didn't do feelings before. I guess,” Beauregard splutters, and she has never felt more ashamed of herself. She should be more mature than this.  
After a few breaths and maybe another monk mental exercise, she knows what she wants to say.  
“You... don't have to be sorry. Because you're assuming things,” she looks away from Jester's face, then looks back. “I want this. I've wanted it for so long. I just can't do it if it's a ‘just friends who kiss sometimes’ thing, because it would be unfair. To me and to you.”  
“So you like me, too.”  
“Yeah, that's kind of an understatement,” Beauregard laughs.  
“So you love me!” Jester's cheery tone comes back as she teases her.  
“Yeah,” she says, biting down on her lip so she won't smile too hard. “Damn, Jes, you deserve someone who's better at this.”  
Jester shakes her head.  
“No, Beau. I deserve someone who's awesome, and who always gets me my favorite pastries, and who looks so pretty all the time that my heart can't stop doing this terrible jumpy thing. I've had enough of being told what I should do, okay? By books, or by people, or by my bad thoughts. You taught me, back at the Balleater, that I don't need that.”  
Her heart may as well leave her chest as she hears Jester talk. This is so much more than she's ever let herself want, and it's everything she's ever wished for, deep in that part of her she kept locked down for so long. And then Jester is bringing her hand up and kissing her wrist, and she could melt with just that, and there's so much love coursing through her body that she feels like she's glowing.  
“By Ioun, Jes. I love you so much,” she says, not much higher than a whisper, and the smile it brings to Jester's face is enough reason for her to want to become the best artist in the world. She doubts she'll forget it, but she wants to show her just how beautiful she looks when she's happy like that, too.  
“I love you, Beau,” Jester answers, and it feels as easy as ever coming from her lips. “And, you know, that was kind of my first kiss. The first that made me feel alive.”  
Beauregard grins at that, coming closer until she's just inches away from her.  
“I'm sorry for ruining it, then,” she all but whispers. “I could make up for it.”  
“You didn't ruin it. I'm glad we talked,” Jester says, touching her face and then the base of her undercut and bringing her almost close enough for a kiss, but stopping right before it. “Can I kiss you?”  
“Yes,” Beauregard breathes against her lips, closing her eyes as they finally touch.  
It's like a dream, but a million times better. Because Jester is real, and she loves her, and they're safe for tonight in the place where they first met, lips still tasting like Kamordan fine wine and sugar. Beauregard lets her hands touch Jester's face, her hair, learns what she likes best and learns that there's nothing she likes more than being so close to her that not a single part of their bodies isn't touching, that there's no place more comfortable than wherever they are together. That this is what it feels like to have what she has never even dared look for.  
“I think we've done enough drawing for tonight,” Jester smiles against her lips. “We should go to bed.”  
“Can I sleep in your bed?” Beauregard asks, the vulnerability still foreign in her lips.  
“I wouldn't let you sleep away from me. Not tonight.”  
“Maybe not ever?”  
“Sounds great to me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to the people at the beaujester discord server I've recently joined for helping me figure out how the hell their first kiss should happen! If you're reading this, you're really kind and I appreciate it!


End file.
